Success. She’d responded with more than one word. I tried not to look too triumphant. “Not necessary since I’ll just forget whatever’s on them. I’ll look through them later.” A yawn interrupted my thrilling conversational skills.

That tiny smile crossed her lips again. “Tired?”

I shrugged. “I don’t usually take classes this early. Late practices don’t give a shit about sleep schedules.”

She hummed an agreement and sent me a longer, curious look. “What are you doing here anyway? We don’t see many football players in upper-level psych classes.”

“I needed a humanities credit, and one of my buddies told me this class wouldn’t take up too much of my time. One group project and a couple of tests.” No need to tell her that I was minoring in psychology. The subject interested me—group dynamics, especially.

Her face closed up as if I’d insulted her grandmother. The off the cuff remark was probably a mistake, but it wasn’t entirely wrong. College was a means to an end for me. A stepping-stone to the NFL and the rest of my life.

I enjoyed psychology classes because they helped me lead my team better, but I had no allusions about using my degree after I graduated. My time was severely limited during the season, so I needed classes that didn’t demand more than I could give. Football came first, always, everything else second.

Em shook her head. “College is wasted on you.”

I mostly agreed with her. If not for Chloe, I’d have chosen an easy degree. But agreement wouldn’t keep her talking. “How so? I’m here learning just like you.”

Fire lit her eyes. “Not just like me. I work for my grades. You get a free pass because you can throw a ball or knock a guy over. Advantages rain down on you like confetti, but you don’t try to use them to help anyone.”

She wasn’t wrong. This class had been closed, but the school let me register anyway. I looked around at the room full of students chatting amongst themselves and felt a prick of guilt. They might have denied another student to let me in, but it wasn’t like I planned to waste the spot.

More importantly, I didn’t want to leave her with that image of me.

I leaned closer, watching the pulse point in her neck jump. “You have some seriously negative opinions about football players.”

“Oh, it’s not just football players. Jocks in general make me angry on principle. Being good at a sport shouldn’t merit hero worship when there are so many other deserving skills.” She cocked her head and tapped her chin. “Except maybe the swim team.”